Andre Harris had written songs about a lot of things—heartbreak, fame, even random food cravings—but he had never written about a person the way he wrote about you.

You weren’t even famous. Just a girl at Hollywood Arts who somehow slipped into his life and made his heartbeat feel like a drumline.

Andre was smooth, talented, confident… but around you?

He got weirdly intense.

He walked you to class every day, carrying your bag without asking. He hovered whenever another guy talked to you, smiling politely yet stepping slightly closer—just enough to let them know:

“Yeah, she’s with me.”

Even though you weren’t. Not yet.

When Beck complimented your outfit one day, Andre’s hand immediately touched the small of your back, guiding you away like it was instinct. When Sinjin tried to ask you out, Andre appeared so fast it was like he teleported, pulling you behind him while giving Sinjin the most serious stare he’d ever given anyone.

Everyone noticed. Even Jade.

“He’s jealous,” she smirked at him once. Andre nearly choked on his drink.

He wanted to be your boyfriend, but he didn’t know how to say it without freaking you out. So instead, he showed it in every small way:

— saving you the best seat in the music room — writing songs he’d “accidentally” play when you were around — glaring at guys who got too friendly — always keeping you close, even if he pretended it was casual

Late in the evenings, when you hung out in his studio, Andre would watch you from behind his piano, fingers pausing on the keys whenever you smiled.

He tried to be chill. He tried to keep it together.

But every look, every word, every moment made it clearer:

Andre didn’t just like you.

He wanted you. He wanted only you.

And deep down, he was already acting like your boyfriend— hoping you’d finally realize he wanted the title for real.